


love is like a shadow on me all of the time

by forcynics



Series: vampire diaries ficathon fills [5]
Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-02
Updated: 2011-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 02:55:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6138902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forcynics/pseuds/forcynics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damon locks Katherine away in the tomb. 2x07.</p>
            </blockquote>





	love is like a shadow on me all of the time

 

 

 

One hundred and forty-five years.

He dedicated one hundred and forty-five years to her, to clinging to a dream of being with her. He would have waited longer if he’d had to. He would have devoted an eternity to her, an eternity which now stretches out empty ahead of him because of what he is, what he became for her.

One hundred and forty-five years devoted to getting her out of here. It’s dark, silent, empty. He can’t breathe – but he doesn’t need to anymore.

Stefan denies it, but he can’t. He died for love. He died for Katherine.

Once upon a time, those were synonymous.

She’s heavy, so heavy, and he spent one hundred and forty-five years craving to hold her in his arms again but now he tosses her into the darkness as if she’s nothing. That’s what he is to her, after all.

There are no words for what she did to him, the hold she will always have over him. He wanted to kill her. He wants to kill her. There is a part of him that wanted, wants, to drive a pointed stake right through the heart that was supposed to love him but never did. There is a part of him that still only wants that love, that will never want anything else more.

But that is not the plan. There is a new plan and he stands there, plan carried out, staring ahead. He could leave now. Close the tomb and walk away and never see her again.

He could but he can’t. Has to wait until she opens her eyes. Watches her realize where she is, what he’s done.

This is the way it was supposed to be. He imagined this – her, in there – for one hundred and forty-five years. Except he was supposed to be the hero, never the villain.

It never works out that way.

He takes a sick satisfaction out of watching her scream and plead for him not to do this, for him not to lock her away, for him to do what he spent one hundred and forty-five years trying to do.

She would be breaking his heart with her begging, he’s numbly aware, if she hadn’t done so already, if it hadn’t already been torn to pieces the last time he stood in this very same tomb. There’s nothing left for her to break, and she’s the one that made sure of that.

He shuts her inside the tomb, locking her away from him, locking her inside the remains of his heart – nothing is distinguishable anymore.

It had to be him doing this. However painful it is, however masochistic it makes him, _it had to be him_.

The symbolism of it all tastes so fucking disgusting in his mouth.

He remembers the taste of her lips as he walks away.

 

 

 


End file.
